American Honey
by Cometas Por El Cielo
Summary: Twenty years. It's been twenty years since my sister was killed, blown to bits, by the double exploding bombs. Still not a day goes by that I don't miss my sister... songfic...really bad


This is a Katniss fic. I hate Katniss but decided to use her anyway. No, I'm not killing her this time. It is angsty, but also a little bit happy. It's written for The Great Weekly Karaoke Challenge on the DWCA forum, and based from this week's prompt, Lady Antebellum.

This was written in fifteen minutes and is my first time attempting to write a Katniss/Prim fic and most likely my last.

I'm not too happy with how this turned out, but... :/

Disclaimer: Characters are property of Suzanne Collins; rights to the lyrics go to Lady Antebellum.

Summary:  Twenty years. It's been twenty years since my sister was killed, blown to bits, by the double exploding bombs. Fifteen years since I married Peeta Mellark. Five years since our daughter was born. Still not a day goes by that I don't miss my sister...

* * *

><p><strong>American Honey<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Gone for so long now<br>I gotta get back to her somehow  
><em>

**~.*~.***

_She grew up on the side of the road_  
><em>Where the church bells ring<em>  
><em>And strong love grows<em>**  
><strong>

"Mommy! Mommy!"

The cheerful cries of a five year old fill the large house in Victor's Village. I laugh happily and welcome my daughter into my arms. I spin Lily-Rue Primrose around before gently setting her back down.

"Again Mommy, again!"

I smile and push away wisps of her blonde hair so I can kiss her forehead. "Not right now, baby. Mommy has to do some storage cleaning."

"Can I help?" Lily asks, her grey eyes staring into me hopefully. Lily has always been my little helper.

I bend down as far as a five month pregnant woman can and grab her little hands. "Cleaning might bring back memories for Mommy. You don't want to see Mommy cry, do you?"

"I can hug you if you cry," She offers.

With one more kiss to her forehead I assure her that that won't be necessary. "If I cry too much, I'll come find you okay? Why don't you go see if Daddy can take you with him to Aunt Annie's house?"

Lily frowns, "But Ronan is at that grown-up school now."

"You mean college," I correct before saying, "Ronan is home form college and he's been wanting to see you."

Her little eyes light up. "Really?"

"Really."

She gasps, "I'll go ask Daddy!"

"You do that, princess." I say softly as I open the upstairs hall closet.

_So innocent, pure and sweet_  
><em><br>_

Lily and Peeta have left for the train station already, which is the only reason I can brave taking items out of that upstairs closet. I have not opened that closet door for twenty years. In it, is nothing but memories of Prim. Happy, albeit painful memories of Prim.

_Twenty years, Katniss. Are you ready to remember, Katniss? Are you ready to remember the person whose death you caused, Katniss?_

"Shut up, why won't you shut up?" i ask my conscience out loud. Of course it shuts up ask I speak to it. It only speaks when it is convenient.

I waste twenty fucking minutes sifting through useless knick knacks, none of which belonged to my sister. There is a box in on the far left side that catches my eye. _Prim. _

It has to be full of her things. It has to.

I pull out the box and I open it up. Inside it, is a small journal. With a careful lift of the front cover, it is revealed to be Prim's. I don't bother reading it just yet. I will find no juicy secrets other than perhaps a crush she may have had on a boy. Prim is- was- so innocent. There is no way anybody would find anything incriminating in that little book. That is was I love- loved- most about my sister. She was so innocent, so pure, so sweet and so loving. She had no faults other than she made everybody else look like the devil compared to her.

Prim is perfect.

Was _perfect, Katniss. Prim is gone now. You must use past tense. Was. Not. Is._

A stray tear falls down my cheek and I wipe it away.

_Prim. Why?_

_There's a wild, wild whisper  
>Blowin' in the wind<br>Callin' out my name  
>Like a long lost friend<em>

I let Prim's journal rest closed on my lap as I stare at the now empty box. Scattered all around me on the floor are other objects that belonged to my sister. Lying next to me is the hair ribbon out father bought her shortly before his death when she was eight years old. It was made out of blue satin and was the most beautiful thing in the world in Prim's mind. In front, are Prim's three pairs of earrings, one necklace, and a length of rope she would often fiddle with. I remember that length of rope. I remember it form the time Prim and I tried making 'necklaces of rope' form The Hanging Tree song Father used to sing.

_Are you, are you_  
><em>Coming to the tree<em>  
><em>Where they strung up a man they say murdered three...<em>

My whispers trail off because I allow them to. I can't seem to sing the song anymore without imagining Prim singing it or without picturing her necklace of rope.

_I hear her sometimes, Mother. I hear Prim's voice in the wind sometimes. Singing, talking, whispering to me. Calling out my name..."Katniss...Katniss...Katniss..." Does that sound crazy to you? I don't think so. Perhaps that is all the wind is- the whispers of our late loved ones...if so, how come I do not hear your voice, Mother? I have damn near gone insane because of Prim's voice. I've come close to giving up and ending it all just to shut her the fuck up! There is plenty of rope in our house, Mother. I can myself a fine necklace on one end and dangle the other from the shower rod. Large showers pay off, don't they? _

_But Mother, I've held on. I've held because that isn't what Prim would want me to do. She wouldn't want me to be as weak as you were, Mother. You of all people should have known that is not what Prim would have wanted. No- you weren't just _supposed to know. _You _knew. _Why didn't you go to someone for help instead of slitting you wrists with one of Prim's medical tools? _

_Why?_

I pick up the length of rope and move it behind me so I cannot look at it.

_Your death destroyed our mother, Prim. I hope you know that._

Of course it isn't my sister's fault. It is Gale's. He had those bombs. Not Prim.

_Oh, I miss those days  
>As the years go by<br>Oh, nothin' sweeter than summertime_

I miss Prim. That is just the bottom line of it. Nothing can compare to my little sister, not even Lily-Rue Primrose Mellark, who has reminded me so much of my little sister sine the day she was born.

She shares a July birthday with my sister. Lily didn't cry when she was born; neither did Prim. My sister's summertime birth lit up my year and just getting to see her each morning made it worthwhile.

I miss those days when I would fall asleep laughing with her and wake up the same way. I miss running around the meadow, making bracelets out of dandelions with her.

I. Miss. Prim.

_Gone for so long now_  
><em>I gotta get back to her somehow<em>  
><em>To American honey<em>

Twenty years. Twenty fucking years. That's how long it has been since I've seen her smile, heard her laugh, felt her hugs.

I would kill to have one more day with her.

I would do anything to see one more smile.

Hear one more laugh.

Feel one more hug.

_"Katniss...Katniss..." _The wind blows through the open window, carrying Prim's voice with it. She's been gone for twenty years now. Why am I still getting these delusions of Prim's voice?

_"Katniss...Katniss..." _Or, **are** they delusions?

"Prim?" I call out in desperation.

The whispering has stopped.

"Prim?"

_"Katniss...Katniss..." _The haunting whispers flow throughout the house.

_"Katniss...Katniss...I'm waiting."_


End file.
